


We All Carry, Inside Us, People Who Came Before Us

by Sam_Nook



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 100wordsprompts, Character Death, College, Ghosts, Human AU, Random prompt, Song - Freeform, Talks of Death, antonio's dead, birthday gift, happy late birthday emil, porteng if you squint, prompt was painting, start of an unnamed au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25962772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Nook/pseuds/Sam_Nook
Summary: "He told me," Arthur held up a hand to cut off Henrique's questions, "when I draw, they take over, and I let them. They draw what needs to be said, sometimes it helps."
Relationships: England & Portugal (Hetalia), Portugal & Spain (Hetalia)
Kudos: 11





	We All Carry, Inside Us, People Who Came Before Us

**Author's Note:**

> Random prompt five: painting.

It had been a year since Henrique's older brother died. It was time to move on, at least that was what his mother told him, that he could no longer afford to sit in his room and scrutinize Antonio's journals for any clues that would tell him what Antonio was trying to say. Henrique didn't protest; he couldn't, not when his mom stared at him in distress. She had lost both sons when Antonio died. 

Henrique had already broken the promise he made with his mother when he had packed Atonio's journals into the cardboard boxes he was taking to school. Of course, she didn't know that the books in the crate in the attic were full of Henrique's journals instead. Henrique hoped she never found out. Instead, he the books under his clothing. At least she wasn't watching him with disappointment as he drove down the street. 

Henrique had inherited more than the title as youngest Carriedo brother. Over the years, he had inherited Antonio's music tastes, charm, old car, and when his brother died, he got his guitar and the scholarship to the Charmont Creative and Performing Arts College. Of course, he wasn't exactly as artistically talented as Antonio had been, but he had picked up on Antonio's guitar playing in the past year. It seemed even after his death; Henrique was still learning from Antonio. 

The dorm room in the Keddaik Hall was larger than Henrique was expecting it to be. The room was bright, airy, and covered in plants and half-finished paintings. At least one half was. Henrique plopped the few boxes he had carried into the room on the bed and sighed. His roommate had to be a painter. That would explain the paintings scattered on the desks and a few easels. 

He unzipped the guitar from its case and strummed a few chords. "Well, here it goes. I hope this is what you wanted, Tonio. " 

**~~**

Henrique met his roommate after dinner later that day. He stepped into the door after thanking some Italian that led him down the halls. His roommate, a thin blond hair boy that was painting, was facing away from Henrique, but he could still hear the loud notes to an angry song from the other's earphones. Henrique watched with fascination as the painting in front of him came to life. For a moment, the other's arm was blocking it, but he gasped as he found himself staring at a painting of his dead brother. 

Confused, and amazed, Henrique stumbled back and tripped into another easel that was thankfully empty of a canvas. The boy twirled around and stared at Henrique, pulling out an earbud to hold out a hand.

"You should be glad that there wasn't a painting there. I - well, anyways, you're the Spanish, right?" He pulled Henrique up, his grip surprisingly strong. "I heard you were coming today. I'm Arthur."

Henrique blinked. "How - did you know my brother? Your painting looks just like him." He shook Arthur's small hand and stared at the painting. "There's no way you could have known him."

Arthur blushed and pulled away to cover the canvas. "They have pictures when they send out rooming assignments. I wanted to paint him. I'm assuming you're not Antonio then? Your eyes are greener, and your hair is longer, and he seemed... Well, what's your name?"

"Henrique," he offered meekly, "Antonio was my brother. He died last year."

"Oh. My condolences." Arthur pushed away and stared at the covered painting before throwing the paintbrush back into a supplies box. "I think that's enough painting. It would help if you got some sleep. The first night is often the worse." 

Henrique watched him head into the bathroom.

**~~**

"So what do you do? I paint. You..." Arthur asked without looking up from the empty canvas he was glaring at in frustration. "You have to have a talent to attend CCAPAC." 

"I, uh, play the guitar?" Henrique offered. 

"You don't sound so confident with that."

"Well, it wasn't my thing. It was Antonio's talent. I'm good at gardening, but I felt like someone should do it and if Antonio can't. that leaves me." 

"He's proud of you." Arthur murmured lightly, looking up from where he was sketching. "I mean, I'm sure he is." 

"Yeah," Henrique licked his lips, "what about you? You've been drawing your whole life?"

Arthur stared at the paintings and drawings around the room with pursed lips. "It's practically a family curse. My mom was a painter, and so was her dad. I think my mom wished I was someone else."

"I think I understand that." Henrique stared at the finished painting of his brother. "

**~~**

"What are you looking at?" Arthur leaned over Henrique's chair to study the book open on the desk. The writing was messy, and there were doodles and small notes that littered each page. 

"My brother's journal, I know this will sound crazy, but I think he left something unfinished, and I'm trying to figure it out," Henrique explained as he studied the pages. 

"That's normal. Most spirits trapped here have unfinished work that keeps them from moving on, or they refuse to let something go." Arthur shrugged and dragged his chair over to sit beside Henrique with a coffee cup in his lap. 

"You think that's real? Do you think he's trying to speak to me? How do we find out what's he saying? How do you know this stuff?" Henrique twisted in his chair and nearly toppled over.

Arthur laughed softly and set his cup on a free space on the desk. "Well, my family has always been involved with spirits. It's been passed down to me, too." 

Henrique pondered this. He hadn't exactly been a believer in ghosts, but if Antonio really were trying to talk to him, this would be his only opportunity to find out. 

"Would you help me find out what he's trying to tell me?"

"Already ahead of you," Arthur spoke as he grinned. 

**~~**

"What did you draw?" 

The sketch was of Antonio, dead to a gunshot. Arthur didn't answer Henrique's question and instead asked his own. "Is this what happened to him?"

Henrique stared at Arthur, watching the lightning from the storm outside illuminate the drawing. "How did you know?" He finally said.

"He told me," Arthur held up a hand to cut off Henrique's questions, "when I draw, they take over, and I let them. They draw what needs to be said, sometimes it helps."

Arthur set the paper down and gestured at the wall full of unfinished paintings and drawings. "Europe is so full of ghosts, that's why my mom sent me here to America. She didn't know it was just as bad. The girl, the one closest to the door, her name was Natalya. She was waiting for her brother to come in from a blizzard, but he never did, and she froze to death. The boy next to her, well, he's still waiting for someone to remember his name."

Henrique stared at him wide-eyed. "So, that's what you mean by family curse?"

"Yeah, that's the family curse. My family was almost lucky enough to break it, but I was born. My grandfather likes to say we got too cocky, which was the only reason I was born. Mom says I was a mistake; I suppose they were both right. "

"I don't think you're a mistake. You can help people; you're helping me." Henrique glanced back at the sketch in Arthur's hands. "Has he talked to you." 

"Yes, he has a lot to say too. Do you want me to..."

"Yes!" Henrique almost shoved the pencil he was holding in Arthur's hands.

**~~**

It was nearly midnight when Arthur stepped back from the canvas. On it, a boy sat with his guitar at his side and a book slipping off his lap. The book was full of scribbles and notes, but a clear message covered the next page; _I sing of the wilted roses..._

"Henrique, I'm done." Arthur collapsed into the desk chair with exhaustion as Henrique inspected the finished painting.

"Okay, he's writing in his journal. He did that a lot. His guitar is at his side; maybe he was writing a song for his band, la Cruz. He was writing a new song the day before we went on our trip. It was about roses or somet-" Henrique stopped and scrambled for one of the books stacked on his own desk. 

"The song! The words are apart of the song!" He tore open a few of the books until he found the page he was looking for, "Arthur, listen to this."

_"I sing of the wilted roses along the garden path_   
_That sit there to die in the sun's wrath_   
_For they are mortal and could never last_   
_To dream of summer nights passed_

_The night is young, and so are we_   
_So come dance with me to this melody_   
_for our love is evergreen_   
_And leaves a mark on this mortal scene_

_I love you forever, that's what is true_   
_Because time is nothing between us two..."_

"That's where it ends. Antonio was writing it as a gift for someone, they were lovers, but he died before he could finish it." Henrique explained. 

"He wants you to finish it, I think. Maybe he never got to say what he wanted to say to this person, and that's holding him back. Love is a powerful emotion that can keep spirits from moving on. It can't hurt to try." Arthur handed him the pencil. 

Henrique exhaled. He didn't know how to write songs, let alone songs dedicated to someone his brother loved, but he had to try. He grabbed the book and pressed the pencil to the wrinkled paper.

_"For our love is not of the wilted rose_   
_But alive in the song I compose_   
_So when the melody starts to play_   
_It'll remind you of the three words I'll always say_

_For our love is very much alive_   
_And through the darkness, it will survive_   
_If I have your hand to hold through this night_   
_We may survive this mortal fight_

_I love you forever, that's what is true_   
_Because time is nothing between us two..."_

A tearstain fell onto the paper, and Henrique dropped the pen. 

**~~**

"You're sure he's really gone? That was just it?" Henrique fell in line with Arthur as they left their shared English class. "You haven't heard him when you paint?" 

Arthur nodded, messing with the pencil in his hand. "Come on, Henrique, I wouldn't lie to you. I haven't felt or heard from Antonio since you finished the song. You mailed it, right? You know that's-"

Hey, you're Arthur, right?" Someone interrupted Arthur, and he skidded to a stop next to the duo. "You're the one who can talk to ghosts, right? Cause if that's you, I need your help." 


End file.
